The Price I Paid: A Traitor Wrought
by Flutist Girl
Summary: History says that Ganondorf gave him life, that he was the product of some dark sorcery. I do not mind the Dark Lord taking credit for my doing. I find no pride that I was the one to create the creature of the shadows that destroyed me and my people.
1. Chapter 1

**I: Ante-Mortem**

When Ganondorf ascended the throne, I was forced into a world I had never known as a princess. Instead of being awakened at dawn by an attendant, I was often thrust from my dreams into reality by the roar of a fiend. When we ate (and it was not often), it was as we sprinted away from danger or (when we were lucky, and that was not often) as we rode on horseback away from one violated sanctuary to seek another. We were driven to extremes by the crippling fear of capture and the frail, hopeless hope of finding some haven or escape.

I remember little of those first dark days except for the running. We ran the horse we escaped on until the beast collapsed from exhaustion, and then my attendant dragged me from the doomed animal to continue through the grasslands on foot. When I could run no further, Impa picked me up and carried me. We didn't stop. We couldn't.

My first coherent memory from that era of my life begins in the Shadow Temple. I was lying face-up on something soft but wet and very, very cold. I was paralyzed, but trembling. Above and all around me was only abysmal darkness. I couldn't breathe. I could feel Impa's hand clasp mine, but couldn't make out her face. She slipped something into my hand. Not knowing what it was, I reluctantly ate, and immediately felt consumed by fire, then completely subdued, as if turned to stone. I couldn't know that the burning poison she had given me was an antidote that had saved my life. I didn't know how gravely I was wounded, how much I cried in hysteria, and how many soldiers were at our very heels. I didn't understand that by stilling my frantic protests, the both of us had been spared to live another day.

When I awakened and regained use of my body, I knew for the first time what danger was. I knew then that life as I had known it was over. I knew that the civility and refinement of court life would be a thing of the past.

I knew that I knew nothing of this new world.

I _didn't_ know what it would take to survive in it. But I would learn, far too soon, that it demanded a price higher than I ever dreamed I could have paid.

* * *

"Why do you think he hasn't come yet?" I asked Impa one night, desperate to hear her voice so I could concentrate on something other than the creeping shadows of the house of the dead.

There was no change on her stony face except for a tightening of her lips. "I—couldn't say, Princess."

"You do think he will return, don't you?"

She hesitated, and that was unusual for my punctual nursemaid. "I'm sure his _intentions_ are along those lines, Highness. But he is only a child and Ganondorf's forces…"

"What would stop him?" I cried, grasping my hair in frustration. "What _could_? He has the three spiritual stones! I gave him the Ocarina of Time! He has everything…_everything_! The Master Sword is as good as his!"

"I am aware, Zelda," she said sadly, her features softening upon seeing my distress. "Calm yourself, child, we don't know who might be listening."

I quieted, my zealous faith in the boy who had promised to aid me dulled by the knowledge of how I was hunted. Spies, Impa constantly assured me, were everywhere.

"He will come," I concluded in a whisper, wanting to have the last word. "In a week at most…this will all just be a frightful nightmare. He _will_ beat Ganondorf!"

"Keep that faith, Zelda," Impa sighed. The way she said it wasn't very reassuring at all.

* * *

We waited in the Shadow Temple for quite some time—at least until Hyrule Castle Town had been thoroughly destroyed and the castle had been warped to suit Ganondorf's own twisted tastes. By the time we dared to emerge into the daylight, Hyrule, _my_ Hyrule, was overrun.

Link had not come, and the golden country was black and dead.

I could not convince myself of my faith in the boy's return for long. For a month I dwelt in the Shadow Temple and waited for some sign that this terrible dream had ended, but no sign came.

And so Impa and I left the safety of the Shadow Temple and ran to the Temple of Time, seeking what had become of our hero. Looking back, it was a foolish decision, but I somehow managed to convince Impa that I could not continue in suspense.

Dressed in scant rags so I looked like any of the other young, destitute widows from the destroyed capital, I made my way to the once-radiant city. When I could, I hid myself in the small family caravans that made their way to a place that they prayed would offer security from the onslaught of the mad Gerudo king. I rushed to the Temple with renewed vigor upon meeting these brave souls. If I could hurry, if I could find Link, I thought that perhaps I might save my people from any more oppression.

I ran into the stone Temple and flung myself beyond the Door of Time.

And there, as a seven-year-old girl, I learned true despair.

The portal to the Sacred Realm was open, a sight I never thought to behold, but I could not witness in awe. It was open, yes, and it had been violated by evil. It was as open as a grievous wound, bled dry of the purity it once held, an image of death and defeat against the serenity of the sacred Temple. I could see only poison darkness where the golden paradise of legend should have been. Waves of otherworldly heat rose from the scorched earth. The Triforce of lore was gone, and I knew who its captor had been.

And worst of all, I saw the boy I had entrusted with the fate of Hyrule. Though the Blade of Evil's Bane was clasped in his small hands, he was lying on the red earth, face up, his eyes sealed closed and his body still as death. On his lips was the tiniest smile, a contented expression of the hope that must have filled him before the dreadful sleep seized him. _"At last,"_ his face seemed to say. _"It is done."_

And it was done.

"Impa," I cried, folding with the unbearable weight of defeat. "It really is over."

And then I fell into blackness.

* * *

When Impa and I fled back to the Shadow Temple, we found it occupied with Ganondorf's minions. When we were spotted, we were forced to take cover as soon as we could to avoid capture. The area just outside the temple was the Kakariko Graveyard, and the only sanctuary that was immediately apparent was the Royal Family's Tomb.

I didn't tell Impa that I thought the hideout quite appropriate for the both of us.

* * *

"It is not over," was the first thing Impa said. "The boy is merely sleeping. He lives still."

"Does it matter?" I moaned and tried to roll into myself to escape my relentless nursemaid, but she would not let me lose hope.

"Yes, it matters. As long as the boy lives, so does our hope. Pull yourself together, Zelda, there is no time to waste!"

She told me how the Master Sword could not have such a young master. Indeed, the blade was as tall as he was. There was no possible way that such a little body could master the weapon. "And so we wait," she said repeatedly. "He has already proven himself worthy to be the Hero of Time. The sword has called him to be its master. When he is the age of a true swordsman, he will awaken and take that role."

The words comforted me for a while, until I realized that while teen boys were prone to grow quite rapidly, this "rapid growth" still spanned several years.

It would be a long time to evade a mad king with the golden power, and even longer to watch as my people cried my name in their oppression.

It was a long time to be helpless.

* * *

The Triforce of Wisdom came to me in a dream. I knew that I had fallen asleep in the Royal Family Tomb, but I woke to find myself in a sparkling Fairy Fountain. The shallow waters lapped at my sore body, easing the ache of defeat and despair. I felt cleansed, weightless, liberated.

And all around me, shimmering in girlish innocence, the fairies danced, singing my lullaby in voices like trilling flutes. The tiny maidens flitted about, sparkling with magic and healing. In bell-like voices, they spoke to me.

"Zelda," they sang. "Princess of Hyrule, come with us!"

I couldn't deny them, and I had no reason to suspect that they would lead me to the greatest burden that would ever be placed on my shoulders. Like excited little children, they flocked around me in clouds of colored light and fluttering wings. As I stood, they reached out delicate, porcelain hands to push me in the right direction. Their impossibly small fingertips tickled my skin and left me giddy, submissive to their sweet, Siren's spell.

"You must know," they chimed together, as if they were one body instead of thousands. "Ganondorf holds only one piece of the Golden Power. Such an evil heart split the Triforce into parts, and he was left with only a single fragment in his palm."

I walked on, only half hearing.

"You must be a Keeper," they sang, and they made it sound dreamy. "You must shield the Triforce of Wisdom."

They led me into wakefulness, and the lulling calm began to fade as I understood what it was they were asking of me.

"Wise, wise Zelda. Princess of Destiny, do not despair. The power of legend lies within you now. It will keep you safe."

"No--!" I protested, trying to push the shimmering bodies from me, but they would not retreat. They enfolded me in ethereal light once more.

"Safe," the fairy voices echoed as I awakened fully at last. "Safe and warm in the arms of the shadows."

I was filled with a new light, a golden light. I could not push it away no matter how I tried. It engulfed me, swallowed me whole—I felt it in my very blood.

If Ganondorf had hunted me before, when I was merely a fugitive monarch of the kingdom he had conquered, I could only imagine the zeal he would exert to find me now that I housed the power he sought with bloodthirsty lust.

I would learn that Ganondorf was only one of the problems that came when the Triforce of Wisdom was forced upon me.


	2. Chapter 2

**II: ****Hereditas**

For two years, a vicious lifestyle kept the truth at bay. From sunrise to sunset, Impa and I slept in the most remote, forsaken areas possible, such as abandoned mines or barns, hidden grottos, and coal cellars. We took turns standing as the lookout while the other lay defenseless, often foraging the surrounding area for food or fresh water. While I slept, Impa sometimes hunted for meat. When we were lucky, we found wild herbs, berries, or mushrooms, but the typical meal consisted of a cake made from weedgrain (a relative of wheat that was native to Hyrule and plentiful enough in most climates) and the milk of a small, hard fruit that we gathered in the forest and stored for months. When we were unlucky, we went without.

At night I was trained in the ways of the Shekiah.

In the shadows, Impa tutored me in Shekian history, magic, lore, and melody as if I had been her own daughter. She entrusted me with the rich secrets of her forgotten race, and trained me as if I had been born a Shekiah. For the first time, Impa began to treat me as an adult and a student instead of a child and a royal daughter. She knew that in these perilous times, I could be waited on no longer; I needed my own strength. At the commencement of my training, I ceased to be a frail Princess, began to be a warrior in the darkness, and eventually, I would become a full Denizen of the Shadows in all but blood.

With my studies and constant movement (spiced generously with near-captures from Kingmen and increasingly strong fiends) there was simply no time to reflect on what might or could be. I spent every waking hour sore as I built physical endurance by night, and I slept so deeply from fatigue that I could not dream. For those two years, Link (mercifully) seldom crossed my mind.

But as the second year bled into the third, my body became used to the strain of such a demanding lifestyle, so pain could not distract me from my situation. There was little left for Impa to teach me that would keep my mind from reality. I began to sleep less deeply and frequently dreamed of fates too dark to record.

Impa said that it meant I was ready to face my fate.

We had different ideas on exactly what that meant.

* * *

My guardian had found a home for me in Kakariko, away from Ganondorf's eyes, where I could work as a simple milk-maiden. There was a boy there, she told me, the son of a knight who was fiercely loyal to the royal family. He would protect me. I could live a relatively normal life until Link returned. Should I need the survival skills I had obtained over these years, I would have them, and yet I could live a life of stability instead of wandering as a vagabond.

I turned down the generous offer. I told Impa that I wanted to live as a Shekiah, and that I wanted her to name me as a true Shadow Dweller. I had come to love the Shekiah as I became more acquainted with their ways. To me, there was no hesitation. To become one of the Shadow People would fulfill both a need and a fervent wish. In this world, I had no family, no name, no inheritance or legacy to define who I was. I was just a little wanderer, without even a plot of land to call home. To be one with Impa's people would not only allow an excellent disguise from Ganondorf (but would it be a disguise if I was simply being another me?), and it would give me a sense of self that I so desperately needed. To me, it was destiny.

"Being a Shekiah is not the life I would choose for you, Zelda," she said, seeming saddened. "I don't think that you know what you're asking for. You would have made a fine Shekiah, there is no doubt in my mind. Be content with that, little one."

But I made it clear to her that I was not. I wanted a Shekiah name, a Shekiah identity.

We were hiking up Death Mountain one day when, after a long silence, she asked, "Why?"

"Because I want to belong," I said softly.

There was much unsaid in her eyes the following days, but I couldn't read it, and she wouldn't allow me to so much as speak of it again.

* * *

"Do you know what the symbol of the Shekiah means?" Impa asked me one night. There was no prologue to this discussion, and her bluntness stunned me.

"It's that eye," I replied, pointing to the single, open eye that was the sole decoration on her armor.

"But do you know what it _means_?" she asked again.

I had no answer for her.

"Long ago, our symbol was just the open, unblinking eye, to symbolize our vigil over the Royal Family. As a girl, I was told that when the eye on my armor closes in sleep, I could rest from my guardianship." She looked up to the sky, shaking her head softly. "It was seven years before I realized that it wouldn't, and therein laid the point of the symbol."

Impa's rare, wry humor did not amuse me. I couldn't laugh with such heavy burdens so clearly weighing on my guardian. "But it's not just an eye anymore," I prodded.

"No," Impa said. "No, it isn't.

"About two hundred years ago, when I was just a little girl," she began. "The daughter of a noble and the prince of Hyrule that she had been betrothed to had been killed. As if that wasn't bad enough, the king himself had been attacked and was gravely wounded and the baby princess was missing from her cradle."

My eyes widened. "An uprising? But who would want to—"

"No one knows," Impa said. "To this day, no one knows."

"But if the victims were royalty, they must have had Shekiah guardians to protect them!"

Impa smiled wryly. "You're a bright child. They did. The guardians all died protecting their charges.

"But little was known about us in those days. The public as a whole never heard about my ancestors' sacrifice, and didn't even know we were guardians in the first place. We were a people shrouded in myth, a dark and sinister race according to the eyes of the people who didn't know any better. When the name of our tribe was used, it was used in fear.

"Because of this ignorance, and because we were so feared, rumor began to circulate that we were the ones responsible."

She paused, letting me grasp the full implications before she continued. "I won't bother you with the details. Simply put, we were massacred. It happened in the dead of the night by a mob driven mad with grief and rage. Out of all my people, only five of us survived, including myself.

"We didn't defend ourselves," Impa said quickly, seeing the question in my eyes, "because the people attacking us were the ones we were sworn to protect. That night, my race paid in blood for their loyalty to the Hyruleans." She ran a hand absentmindedly over the crimson emblem on her bosom. "And so the few of us who remained added a crimson tear to our symbol, so that all who saw us would remember the sacrifice of my people."

"Why have I never heard this story?" I asked breathlessly.

"Shame," Impa said simply. "The king wept like a child when he heard what had been done. He tried to make amends, but even he couldn't undo what had been done. Many of our murderers were captured and executed, and the king tried his hardest to publish the truth, but the people chose not to believe. It was easier that way; they didn't have to suffer under the burden of so many lives that way. Over time, we went back to our shadows and took our loss with us. I doubt if your father even knew of this."

"…And you still protected me. Even after all that my people had done to yours?"

"Those who were responsible are dead, there's no need to carry the grudge further." She sobered. "…Some of the survivors did not think so, and took their own revenge. One story you _will_ head about my people is the shadows that took 50 civilian lives every anniversary of the massacre. Until they were caught and put to death, there was much needless suffering in Hyrule."

"So you're the last Shekiah?"

"I am, and I want you to take two things from this story, Zelda. The first: hatred can only destroy. The second," there was infinite pain behind those strong eyes as she whispered this, "if you become a Shekiah, you will know loneliness that you could never fathom otherwise."

She left me alone to ponder anew what it was that I was asking for.

It was not long for me to come to a conclusion.

The Shekiah needed me more than ever, to correct an awful lie, redeem their slandered names, and rescue their race from exile and extinction.

I was the last Shekiah heiress in the entire world.

* * *

That night I took upon me the name of a Shekiah. Impa sadly presented me with a royal blue outfit with the red Shekiah eye and tear, and instead of wearing gauntlets and armor as she did, I wrapped my hands, feet, and face in cloth bandages meant to wrap the dead.

The last thing I ever said to Impa before we parted was, "You're not alone anymore, Impa."

"Princess," she said. "I pray you never have to know what solitude means."

* * *

A/N: Ever wonder why there are like NO Shekiah? And in OoT when Shiek appears to Link he introduces himself as "Survivor of the Shekiah". And in TP Renaldo says the race "dwindeled in the prolonged wars." Anyway, here's one interpretation. Next chapter we get to Dark Link.


	3. Chapter 3

**III: Prolabi**

Even in the darkest hours, I had always had Impa by my side to shield me. Until that point, I dared to venture that I had not spent more than a few hours alone in my entire life. I, as a princess, knew nothing of privacy. Even when I was not surrounded by nobles and citizens, guards and servants were ever near. When I slept, I did so with guards at my door and Impa at my bedside. Every idle word I breathed, every expression I showed, wherever I was, was noticed. Even after two years wandering the land, Impa had been my constant companion, and I could not imagine a day or night without her by my side.

But loneliness was not to be my lot in life, even as a Shekiah.

Catastrophe found me quickly, and was to be my companion for the next dark years.

I had wandered into the heart of Ganondorf's dark empire, seeking only to know what the fate of my home was. The castle was dark and brooding against the bleak horizon, but surely, I thought, it could not be so very twisted from the way it had been before. It must have been a trick of the light and distance, I told myself. My palace, my impenetrable fortress, could not fall in such a short span of time.

As I walked through Castle Town, populated only by the living dead now (perhaps they once were my fair citizens, twisted by tortures until only anguish held their dead corpses to a lifeless existence), my hopes began to fall. And when I saw the new center of Hyrule's tyranny, my beloved home, and what it had become, I almost despaired for good.

The moat I swam in as a child was replaced with such grievous wounds in the earth that lava, like the muscle of the planet, was exposed. The heat seared away any life from this place; the ground was dust, any vegetation was withered and dehydrated into gray powder, the air smelled of poison sulfur and was hazy with ashy fumes.

In the heart of the inferno, Ganondorf's stronghold rose like a nightmare, a fortress carved from the very blackest of shadows.

A fitting heart for a slaughtered country and its tyrant king.

Some morbid curiosity drew me closer to the nightmarish labyrinth, and in my shock I forgot caution. Before I knew what I had done with myself, I was in the open, at the gate of Ganondorf's door.

Where the Moblin sentries could see me.

"'Eh!" one of them shouted in their coarse, brutish language. "You!"

I might have escaped. I was a master of the craft, one with the shadows, even a Shekiah! A daughter of the darkness in all but blood! And yet I stood, unarmed in weaponry and wits, immobile at the threshold before my enemy. The thought of retreat was not feasible: they outnumbered me five to one and could summon an inexhaustible supply of reinforcements if they needed, they had the high ground, and I was in emotional turmoil. I didn't so much as put my foot back.

Sooner or later, I reasoned, I would have to face the Dark Lord.

A plan began to blossom in my mind. Maybe I didn't _have_ to be alone, or be a hunted fugitive. Maybe there was a better way…

"I am Sheik, survivor of the Shekiah," I raised my voice enough for the sentries to hear me, though it would be soft as the wind to their ears. "And I have come to swear my fealty to Lord Ganondorf."

I wasn't sure what I had expected, but I never dreamed that I would be brought before the King of Evil himself. I willingly submitted to the shackles they put on me, knowing that they would think me hostile to their cause if I did not comply. I was escorted down halls of black despair by no less than five Moblins, and before I knew it, I was kneeling on one knee at the feet of the man who had taken _everything_ from me.

"Sheik," the King sneered, leering down at me as he slumped in his (_my!_) throne. "Of the _Shekiah_." He laughed, long and heartily. "Welcome to my…humble abode, shadow dweller."

I bowed my head deeper, one fist over my heart in a gesture of loyalty. I hoped he could not see how tightly that fist was clenched in hatred.

"Shekiah serve the Royal Family of Hyrule." It was all he had to say. He rose to his feet and slowly circled around me like a vulture, looking for a weakness at which to pry so he could expose the truth.

"So…why the switch in loyalties, _traitor_?" He chuckled darkly.

I had rehearsed this throughout my voyage through the halls. I wasn't sure if it would hold.

"I am a…rebel of sorts. I survived the massacre, and was one of very few. Most of my people who remained could forgive the Hyruleans, and returned to them as if nothing had ever happened." To sound convincing, I imagined that it was Ganondorf I was talking about. The hatred was easily transferrable, I found. Almost frighteningly so.

"As for me, I will _never_ serve the monsters that destroyed my people."

He stopped circling, and I felt his gaze sear into my heart. He stroked his chin with one enormous hand, deep in thought, amusement flicking through his eyes.

"Is that so," he stated. "Turning your back on those you were born to serve? How very…_rebellious_ of you."

But he was far from finished. "Then why offer your allegiance to _me_? Why not be as alone as the shadows from whence you came, darkling?"

I figured there was no need for an elaborate explanation. "I was born to serve those in power."

He snorted. "Ha…a traitor indeed.

"On one hand, your offer is flattering. On the other, you have proved to me that your loyalty is fickle."

I winced as if slapped. I couldn't deny it, not without discounting my entire story. I was cornered.

"And yet…"

He mused a bit longer, murmuring to himself under his breath. "Such dark arts…to twist such a pure power…delicious."  
My chin nearly touched my chest, my head was bowed so low. My knee ached from kneeling on the stone floor for so long, but I held my body steady.

"On your feet. Show me your eyes."

Knowing that this was _not_ a good idea, I nonetheless stood proud and looked him straight in the eye.

Neither of us relented in our gaze. I could not back down, lest he see doubt in me and see through my entire ruse. Above all, underneath the shadows, I was still the Princess that he desperately sought. I didn't want to think of what he'd do to me if he realized that.

But if I could pull it off!

_The best place to hide is often right under your enemy's nose,_ Impa had once told me.

But under my enemy's (very large, I noted) nose, was the single most dangerous place for me to be.

He laughed. I don't know why, but he found me immensely amusing. There was malice there. I got the uneasy feeling that he knew something. But he couldn't! I would be in the prisons by now if he knew who I was.

What had he seen in my crimson eyes, I wondered?

"Your race is proud," he commented. "Why submit to _these_?" He jerked on my shackles, dragging me towards him and then flinging me across the room. I landed on my back, disoriented from the fall.

"You've got spirit, kid," he said. "And I could find a use for your powers. I admire your guts. But…"

I waited for the guillotine to fall.

"…I need proof. Prove to me that you are my servant."

I blinked as I looked up at him from the floor, not understanding.

"Get out of my sight, and do not return until you have done something worthy of my attention. If you don't have the nerves to commit such an act, you have no place here, and I will kill you. I can't have you making a mess of things, you see."

I was dismissed promptly, dragged this time, by snorting Moblins.

_Something to __**prove**__ I was Ganondorf's servant_…

I had not the strength to move when the Moblins deposited me none-too-gently outside the castle. Would I have to _kill_? How many innocents would be sacrificed before I could guarantee my own safety? Would I have to _conquer_, enslave my own people? The thoughts made me revile against myself. The Dark Lord, whether he knew it or not, was twisting my humanity, my compassion and love for my people, and trying to make me into a demon as cold-blooded as he.

I could not. I _would_ not!

But what could I do? Now he was wary not only of Zelda, but also Sheik. If I didn't follow through, he would kill me for fear that I'd turn into a threat. If I did, I was no longer worthy to call myself the rightful heir to this land, for I would be as evil a ruler as he.

What could I do?

What had I gotten myself into?


	4. Chapter 4

**IV: Natus**

The mind plays strange tricks when under pressure.

I found myself back in the Shadow Temple, in the home element of my adopted tribe. I had a feeling that eyes were watching me; it would not surprise me if Ganondorf had sent spies after me. It would also not have surprised me if hysteria was making me imagine things.

_What have I done?_

I had made myself known. This, as I had suspected might prove to be an exquisite disguise. I had so much to offer the Dark Lord, sick a thought though that was. A Shekiah's powers would benefit him in untold ways.

I had to earn my way in though, and to do that, I had to commit an atrocity.

What could I do to prove I was evil enough to join his ranks? All I could give him would destroy all I stood for. The whereabouts of the sages, of the Triforce pieces, or even _my own identity_ would probably please him to no end. But I would not consider any of these.

I would not be a traitor.

But I could think of no other way. I was in; to get out I either had to be his servant or be killed for being against him. My anonymity was no longer a protection. Even if Ganondorf didn't know Zelda, he knew Sheik.

My frantic mind could only think of one solution.

_A surrogate._

I would create a soldier with no heart to serve Ganondorf in my stead.

To tamper with life was a dangerous gamble. I cannot count how many times Impa warned me against it. However, I managed to somehow convince myself that I was not creating a life, only its imitation; a phantom, a shadow.

Within the walls of the Shadow Temple I toiled away at my work. Using clay from the river of the dead, I formed a head, torso, two arms, legs, hands, and feet. In the end, I had a hollow, life-size doll of clay, devoid of any features. I intended to keep it that way.

I fashioned a sword out of the same clay, smoothing the edges so that when imbued with magic, it would be sharp. There was no grace in the hilt or blade, just as there was no soul in its wielder. Pottery, I convinced myself. I was making pottery. With this as my forced motive, I continued my work in the darkness of the Temple of the Dead.

By pressing my thumbs into the face, I made hollows for eyes. I roughly drew the outline of ears in the sides of the clay head, and pinched clay between the eyes together for a small, rough nose. I gave him no lips. I did not want this creature to have a voice.

I could delay the magic no longer when I had completed these final details.

I rested for a day after my clay manikin was completed, not so much for exhaustion as for dread of what I would do next. It took me hours of staring at my graceless soldier to summon the courage to begin the magic.

I began to draw upon the power of the Triforce and the powers of my Shekian ancestors around me. Slowly, I touched the fingertips of my clay man and let this force flow steadily into the inanimate form. I bit my bottom lip: I must not speak, lest my work spiral out of my limited control.

That was the first law of the shadow race: silence.

I could almost feel the eyes of Ganondorf's spies burrowing into my heart.

It was at that moment that my mind played the cruelest of tricks on me. Just as the flow of energy was subsiding, and my work was near completion, I faltered.

_Was this the only way?_ I wondered.

Perhaps it truly was my imagination that provided me with an answer, but to this day, I swear that it was real. Behind me, I heard a voice, clear as day.

_"Zelda…don't!"_

In instinct I turned to see who had spoken, and then I saw the answer to the question I had not voiced.

I saw the Hero of Time, the Master Sword bare in his hands, the crest of Hyrule on his shield, and the Triforce of Courage glowing on the back of his gauntleted hand.

My darkest creation came into being because I had not the power to stop his name from tearing from my throat.

**_"Link!"_**

My manikin of clay opened two eyes, without pupil or iris, of blood, blood red. His seething gaze was all I saw as I was enveloped in a power that I had not summoned.

My own magic writhed out of control, and all the counter spells in the world could not stem its flow.

I lost sensation until there was metal at my throat.

From where I laid on my back, I looked up at a blade of blackest steel. I knew this blade. I knew the shape, the insignia on the cross guard, the hilt. The Master Sword, turned obsidian.

And I knew the man who held it at my throat. There was my Link…turned black! The tunic and boots of the Kokiri were the color of ash, a cold imitation of shape only. His cap, which I had once mocked him for when we were yet children, still sat atop long hair, framing a face that had not left my mind since I had fled the castle. My twisted imitation was spared no cruel detail. His ears, the calluses on his hands, the way his hair framed his face…it was identical!

Except everything—his hair, his skin, his hands, shield, and blade—were pitch, pitch black.

He glared at me with eyes of fire, glowing with malice although he had only just awakened. Slowly, his lips parted, and he spoke, though I had intentionally given my clay doll no voice!

"…Princess Zelda." He spoke. His voice was cold and deep, breathy as a shadow.

My darkest, blackest creation smirked, revealing teeth that were sharp as fangs, threw back his head, and laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

**V: Socius**

I shook my head. "I am Sheik," I insisted quietly. "Last survivor of the Shekiah."

The shadow hero tilted his head to the side. His beady red eyes narrowed, and I could see him weigh my words in his mind.

"…Shekiah," he breathed. "…Impa. She was the last of the shadow race."

I shook my head again. "No longer."

He looked confused. "Where is this place?"

"You are in the Shadow Temple."

"Impa…she is the guardian here."

"No longer," I repeated.

"You jest."

"I do not. Much has changed these last years."

"…Years…?" Shadow Link withdrew his blade, and I drew myself to my feet. The shadow was looking intently at his hands, clenching them and relaxing them.

"This body, it is new to you?" I asked.

"I was a child but a moment ago…how is this?" He sounded lost. Frightening as he may have been, he was flustered, confused. At that moment, he almost looked like a child.

"I will explain as we travel."

"I will go _nowhere_ until I know the truth!"

The outburst startled me. Now, at the drop of a hat, he was angry again, and the same ruby eyes that had looked to me for answers now bored into my soul with fiery hatred. I had to tell myself that I had the upper hand, that I was this shadow's creator, and that on some level he owed his very existence to me. I refused to quail before him; I stood my ground.

Furthermore, I could not answer him. I had no answers for him. I could not say what I myself had done. I knew little more about him than he knew about himself.

"Regardless, I am leaving, and you will find no answers in this place."

I knew he would follow, albeit grudgingly. I was the only thing he knew right now, whether he liked it or not.

"Very well, _Sheik_."

The way he hissed my name gave me pause. There was amusement in his eyes and a feral smirk playing on his lips, the tips of his fangs clearly visible.

It sounded like he did not believe that I was who I said I was.

* * *

Ganondorf was infinitely pleased with my creation. He laughed heartily, banging his fist on the arm rest of his throne in glee. My shadow copy of Link was on edge; he was coiled as if to spring, his mouth set in a grimace.

"Tell me, Sheik, how this came to be."

I had been thinking on it myself and had come to some sort of conclusion. I figured there was no benefit in me hiding the truth.

"I set out to make you a perfect servant my Lord, a soldier without heart or will of its own. I formed his body from clay, and filled it with my power to give it an imitation of life. However, as I was performing my magic, my mind was drawn to your sworn enemy, the Hero of Time."

The shadow Link's gaze shifted to me as if he had been called.

"I believe that the creature before you was taken from the Hero himself, as he shares the same memories as the boy. However, as you can see, this figure lives as an embodiment of everything that he Hero is not. As Link is light, his shadow is dark. As Link is hope, his shadow is despair and ruin. The Hero is kind and merciful; his shadow will be ruthless and merciless."

The shadow listened to me with blank, emotionless eyes.

"This is a mirror of the Hero: I can assure you that this shadow shares the Hero's strength and resilience. These assets will be yours to use as you will, because as Link's opposite, this shadow has neither heart, substance, nor soul to hamper him."

Ganondorf smiled down at me. "_Perfect_," he purred. "Nothing short of _brilliant_, Sheik."

I hated the way he said it.

"What are you called, shadow?" Ganondorf asked my creation.

"I have no name."

"Then you will be Dark Link."

"Very well," he said, though the name seemed to put him out a little.

"Come."

Dark Link stepped onto the dais and stood before Ganondorf, showing no humility before the Dark Lord of the land. Ganondorf harrumphed at the shadow's lack of respect, but did not compel him to bow.

"Even your blade…_exquisite_. You are certainly his likeness."

Something in Dark Link's eyes flashed angrily.

"I take it you understand the purpose for your creation now, Dark Link?" Ganondorf asked.

"I am to be your servant." (Was that _resentment_ in his voice? Impossible, I thought.)

"Will you swear a blood oath in fealty?"

Dark grinned sardonically. "I will not. I have no blood to spill."

Ganondorf laughed again, apparently the two of them had the same sense of humor. "I do believe you will serve my needs perfectly, Dark Link. As for you, Sheik…"

I waited for the verdict with baited breath.

"You have done well. I accept your offering and recognize you as my ally, Sheik of the Shekiah."

I bowed, one hand over my heart.

"I have great expectations for the both of you. Together you can be of great use to me."

I almost choked. "Together, My Lord?"

"But of course! No one knows the shadows as the Shekiah do." He laughed at his own pun.

Dark Link and I met eyes. Both of us could feel the other's resentment.

"You are dismissed." Ganondorf said abruptly. "I will summon you soon when I have an errand for you."

I bowed before I left, but Dark just walked briskly away without the formalities. I couldn't help but feel like Ganondorf was silently laughing me, or at something I didn't yet know.

I brushed it off. I was his pawn now, it was only right that I should feel as such.


End file.
